


howlers

by skuls



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s04e04 Unruhe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 12:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10536777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuls/pseuds/skuls
Summary: Based on the prompt "things you said when I cried in your arms"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Original post: https://how-i-met-your-mulder.tumblr.com/post/155920077118/msr-31-im-in-the-mood-for-pain-apparently

She stumbles from Schnauz’s trailer, pins and needles dancing through her numb fingers, arms up over her eyes to protect her eyes from the blinding sun. She’s honestly surprised to find that they’re not in a basement, or buried somewhere beneath the earth. It was so dark in the trailer that she never would’ve guessed that they were so close to the light.

She surveys the surroundings shakily, hands clenched in front of her in an attempt to still their jerky motion. They’re in a cemetery, local cops scattered around the grounds, sirens in the distance. One approaches her, assumedly to check on her, and she waves him off. She’s ready for this all to be over, ready to assure the paramedics that she is unharmed outside of the sedative, and go back to the hotel and sleep until it’s time for their flight home. She is tired, craves thirty-two count sheets and heavy comforters and the TV on in the background to give her a sense of security. (It’s the only way she can sleep after days like this.)

Behind her Mulder exits the trailer, resting his hand gently on her shoulder. “You want to sit down?” he asks softly. 

She swats him away irritably. “I’m fine, Mulder,” she snaps. “He didn’t hurt me. He was just about to do the lobotomy when you got in.” 

He shudders a little, bringing his hand up like he’s going to touch her, and then lowering it like he expects rejection. She feels a little bad, but not bad enough to apologize. “The ambulance should be here soon,” he mutters, eyes scanning the horizon. He doesn’t leave her side.

Scully flexes her fingers in an attempt to restart circulation, gripping her elbows. She shivers in the late-day fall breeze. Her legs are numb as well, unsteady, so she lowers herself to sit on the steps of the trailer despite her earlier protests. Mulder doesn’t comment; instead, he sits silently beside her, their shoulders barely touching. 

She tries not to think about Schnauz, about his ice pick, but her mind is a treacherous thing. Lobotomies. Her mind gone in one second, irreplaceably lost to a fucking ice pick. She’d read about them, a long time ago in a glossy-overpriced college textbook, and had shuddered. It’s a sick idea, inhumane, an outlawed practice. 

(She pictures Gerry’s howlers buzzing around inside her skull, wonders if they’re better off being silenced. She doesn’t think so, even if they’re not real.)

(She wonders what would have happened if Mulder had come too late. What would’ve happened. _Scully, it’s me_ , she pictures him saying to an empty shell of herself. _Do you know who I am? Are you there?_ )

“Thank you,” she says, blinking at him owlishly. 

She doesn’t elaborate, and he understands her anyway, just like he always understands her. “Of course,” he says, biting his lip and looking at the ground instead of her. He looks younger, more vulnerable, with this much fear evident in his expression. “I was… scared,” he adds quietly.

That much was clear through the hitch in his voice, the distress in his shouting her name. She can’t remember the last time she’s seen him like that. Probably when his mother was in the hospital. Even after Modell, it’s still hard to associate Mulder having that passion for her, that overwhelming sense of protectiveness. 

“I didn’t want you to…” His eyes meet hers. “I can’t imagine a much worse fate.”

It’s all coming back in waves - Gerry’s hot breath on her face, the ice pick faltering over her eye. She trembles involuntarily, fingers knotting together tight enough to turn white. Tears spring to her eyes, unbidden. She wipes at her eyes furiously, looking away.

“Shit, Scully…” His hand comes down on her shoulder again, softly. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I’m _fine_ ,” she hisses, but the tears keep coming. The fight is leaching out of her and all that is left is weariness. She is fucking tired of this. It’s moments like these where she wants a normal life.

Mulder’s arm wraps around her shoulder, pulling her against him gingerly. She turns her face into his shoulder in some small attempt to hide her anguish, to compose herself. He rubs circles on her back, whispering, “Shhh,” to the top of her head.

“I’ll be okay,” she says stubbornly into his shirt, sniffling a little. “I just… I need to go to bed, Mulder. I’ll be okay after I get some sleep.” 

“Okay,” he murmurs into her hair. “I promise I’ll take you back to the hotel after the paramedics check you out. You can sleep for as long as you want. Corning will let you give your statement in the morning.” 

She nods, shifts a little to hug him back because she can still hear him screaming her name, like she is everything there is in the world and is going to be taken away. “Sorry I scared you.”

He chuckles, tracing two circles on her back before letting go, pulling back to look at her. “You’ve got to stop this, Scully, I don’t think my heart can take it,” he teases, thumbing a tear from her cheekbone. She smiles wobbly, swiping at her eyes again and trying to get her breathing back to normal. “Paramedics are here,” he adds.

She lets him help her to her feet. “Thanks,” she says. For a lot of different things, but she’ll let him interpret it how he wants. 

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “What else are friends for?” he says. He doesn’t let go of her hand as they walk towards the waiting ambulance.


End file.
